American Idol, anyone?

Hello, strangers!
It is I who has been the stranger, I know. I guess I'm still trying to figure out a good routine for this blogging business. It was much easier writing a column every week when I had a deadline and an editor demanding to know where said column was.
Nowadays, I have these fleeting observations about life and I'll think, 'I should blog on this.' Then I'll forget all about it. Vicious cycle! Man, I miss the KCJ. But please know that I'm working on getting back into the groove. I'm figuring out a plan.
In the meantime, attached is a link to the American Idol review I wrote last night for The Dallas Morning News. I write regularly (as in three nights a week) about the show, and I'll also be blogging on the DMN website, overthetop.beloblog.com. If you have any Idol insights to share, feel free to comment on that blog! An open exchange of ideas is encouraged. :)
Last night's story can be found here: http://www.guidelive.com/sharedcontent/dws/ent/television/stories/DN-idol_0228gl.ART.State.Edition2.4424a79.html
(I'm sending a link because otherwise, you'd never be able to find it on the paper's less-than-user-friendly website. Trust me. It's like playing Where's Waldo.)

Newest fashion accessory: flourescent casts!

Yesterday, Emily and I went to the doctor to replace her temporary semi-cast with the real thing. The good news: She has to wear it for three weeks, not four or six as was predicted. The better news: She likes the pink one much better than that drab old white version. I think it's because, well, she's a girl. She likes girly stuff, and a hot pink thing on an arm can't be bad.

Coming up: a column on the many things I've learned about my daughter since her elbow bone was chipped. (One: If a doctor messes with her hurt appendage, she'll scream like they do in horror movies, only much louder and more repetitively. I can only imagine the looks of alarm that were being passed around in the waiting room that morning.

Who knew she had that in her?! Not me!

Well, it started out as a good day

Every so often, the kids and I go out for a whole day of fun. Sometimes the day involves the mall and Build a Bear. I myself derive little fun out of paying $70 for a stuffed animal (that includes the must-have clothing and accessories, of course), so today, we decided to go ice skating, out to lunch and then to the park.
I picked a park that we don't normally go to; it's a cool one with lots of contraptions. We were there for about five minutes when Emily fell off one of the monkey-bar-like poles.
I saw it happen; she swung outward and then right off, landing on her stomach from about five feet up. Because she didn't fall that far down, I was relieved. But then she said her left arm hurt, and she couldn't straighten it all the way without screaming in pain.
Next stop: the after-hours pediatric clinic, which was at standing-room-only capacity. Three hours later, we had the verdict. She'd broken her arm just above the elbow. It's a tiny fracture, but as the doctor said, a break is a break. She'll have to wear a cast for about four weeks. (We won't know exactly how long until she gets the permanent one tomorrow.)
"This is the worst day I've ever had," my sweet little girl said through her tears. Once we got home, she looked at me and sobbed, "I wish this was all a dream."
Me too. What started out as a good day ended with her arm broken, my heart not far behind. But tomorrow, as they say, is another day.

I have a crush on an older man

Saturday afternoon I'm flipping channels, and I end up stopping on the ever-so-classic "Who Shot J.R.?" episode of Dallas. In one scene, Sue Ellen asks her scoundrel husband which slut he's going to be seeing that night. He says something to the effect of, "Any of them would be more interesting than the slut I'm looking at now."

What a scoundrel, I thought, shaking my head. But who can resist him?!

That night, I had to cover a star-studded benefit in Dallas, which included performances by Willie Nelson and Jessica Simpson. Both were great. And whaddaya know, one of the night's special guests was J.R. Ewing himself, who stole the show with his humor and spark.

I later weaseled my way up to his table to ask a few questions about the upcoming Dallas movie, which will star John Travolta. He was as gracious and friendly as everybody had told me he'd be. As I walked away, I told him I'd seen "Who Shot J.R." that day, so this was quite the surreal moment for me. He laughed and said to be sure to give him a good write-up. "I will!" I said. To that, he turned to the person at the next table and joked, "That's what they all say!"

A few minutes went by, and during a lull in the performances, people kept going over to pose for a picture with Larry. (I feel that we're on a first-name basis now. OK, not really.) I happened to mention to the professional photographer standing next to me that I wish I'd gotten a picture with him.

"Let's go ask him now!" he said, offering to email it to me.

So we walk back to his table, I ask for a photo, and he says, "Come on, sit on my lap!" I did as instructed, of course, laughing with delight.

I'm here to report that the guy who played TV's greatest villain is everything you'd hope him to be: charming, funny, smart, and not the least bit evil.

Where's that photo, you ask? Well, the guy hasn't emailed it to me yet. I'll post it as soon as he does! Unless I look too hideous, of course!

Life: not always sunshine and rainbows

The other day, Emily came home from school with some news.

"My friend Mary told me that if you go into the bathroom, turn off the lights and look in the mirror and say 'Bloody Mary' three times, Bloody Mary comes and chops your head off," she said. Wow. Not exactly the "I played tag at recess" comment I was expecting.

"And then Arden told me about the Titanic," she added -- before I'd even had a chance to address Bloody Mary.

"First of all, the Bloody Mary thing is not true," I told her. She asked if this person/ghost/whatever ever existed. No, I said.

"But Skyla said she is real! And Skyla is the smartest kid in our class! She even goes to second grade sometimes!"

I reiterated that as smart as Skyla is, there is not a ghost who can come in and chop heads off. As for the Titanic, she said she was told "it was a ship and it sank, and all the people turned to stone."

"It was a ship," I replied, "and it did sink. But it was a long time ago, and nobody turned to stone."

We chatted some more, but I could tell she was still antsy. So antsy, in fact, that she refused to go to the bathroom alone, and she didn't want the light off in her room that night. "Can you tell Ms. Ogle that they scared me?" she asked. I said I'd think about it, but later I decided that it wouldn't help. Unfortunately, she's at an age when she'll learn disturbing things from other kids.

It happens pretty regularly these days: My kids are told something at school about the world, and I have to confirm or deny the rumor. Sure, it's just part of growing up, but it's sad to see their picture-perfect view of life slowly becoming more realistic.

But luckily -- despite head-chopping ghosts and epic ship disasters -- Emily is still drawing pictures of rainbows and sunshine. Neither of us is ready to give that up.

Dallas Morning News use can use!

Attached is a link to a story I wrote for The Dallas Morning News; it's about women, heart disease and that evil thing called stress:

http://www.dallasnews.com/sharedcontent/dws/fea/healthyliving2/stories/013007DNLIVcover_0130liv.ART.State.Edition1.1209464.html

p.s. to the vet comment

If anyone has great tips for giving pills to cats, please send them my way! Spot, oddly enough, does not like it when we hold him down, force open his mouth and drop a pill at the back of his throat. We know he doesn't like this because of all of the scratching, biting and escaping.

Our "glass-half empty" veterinarian

Let's say you go to the doctor with an ache or a pain, and the doctor thinks it may be one of two things: fatal disease, or common cold. Would you prefer that they treat the common cold first, or jump right to prepping you for your last goodbyes?
Our vet obviously thinks it's best to prepare people for the worst. I took our 10-year-old cat Spot in for a visit this week, as he has had a few disgusting "accidents" around the house. This will not do. She asked me his history, and I mentioned that he had a sister who died years ago from a tumor.
After she did her exam on Spot, she said she felt a mass in his stomach that could be a simple infection. or it could be lymphoma. She then explained every detail about cat cancer, the pros and cons of chemotherapy, the chance of remission, how long remission would last (maybe a few months, so that's not good), etc. She then brought me pages of photocopied info on the disease and what we could expect.
Next up was a blood test, which would give us more details. Fifteen minutes later, as I sat fighting back tears, she came back into the room. Good news: The blood work did not reveal anything that looks like cancer. Bad news: It might just be too early to show up. Iffy news: She'd give us medicine that would treat a possible infection; if he continues to be sick by next week, he probably has cancer.
So I've decided this: I'm going to assume he has an infection. I've also decided that I wish the doctor would have assumed this as well. I mean, she could have said something along the lines of, "This is probably an infection, but there's a chance it could also be cancer." Instead, she chose the opposite approach.
If, God forbid, the news is bad next week, then we'll deal with it next week. But I choose to hold out hope.